𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒┃❝ some souls are stiched from sorrow long before they even breath ❞
❛
𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝘄𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇,
𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝖺 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗻.
𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗒 𝗐𝗂�...
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𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 , 2020 ❝ cinderella's dead ❞ ──────── emeline
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐘 mercy is the virtue of the strong, but often, mercy is nothing but the hesitation of a weak heart.
when power hums beneath your skin and your breath turns colder than the steel you wield, mercy becomes a distant concept - like a star too far to ever touch.
in this world, to hesitate is to die.
the chill wind kissed her face, sharp and biting, as if the world itself was applauding her cruelty.
strands of hair danced wildly, untamed by rhythm or reason.
her eyes, colder than the wind, stared down with a merciless gleam, reflecting the life she was about to take.
the beautiful, blood-spattered white suit hugged her form like a second skin, immaculate in its violence.
she stood tall, a gun resting with calm finality against the broken man's forehead.
the man - or what remained of him - was half a body now. arms severed, legs mutilated, blood pooling thick around him. he sobbed, the pathetic sound scraping against the silence, pleading for a mercy that would not come.
her mind was unmoved.
the screams slipped into her ears and slid right through her heart without a trace. when she spoke, her tone matched the glacial stillness of her eyes, devoid of any human warmth.
"dis-moi, pour qui travailles-tu?"
the words left her mouth in perfect french, smooth and soft like a siren's song.
the man, mind obliterated by pain and terror, answered without a second's pause, desperate to end his torment.
"dark hell," he gasped.
he could barely form the words, his body screaming for release. five hours of relentless torture had stripped him down to nothing but raw instinct, and now he clung to a single hope.
that by speaking, he might be freed.
"please... fre-free me," he begged, sobbing so hard his body shuddered with each word.
the corner of her lip twitched upward in a semblance of a smile, a cruel mockery of kindness. her voice, as mesmerizing as the devil's lullaby, answered him.
"as you wish."
the shot echoed through the empty, abandoned rooftop, startling the birds into the cold gray sky.
their wings beat frantically against the air as if trying to escape the weight of the death lingering below.
without a glance at the fallen body, she handed the gun to one of her men, her voice composed.
